


What is a God, to a Father?

by RubixaSeraph



Series: DMC Community Projects [3]
Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Family Reunion, Fluff, Light Angst, emotional breakdown, everything is going to be all right
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:47:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26831653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RubixaSeraph/pseuds/RubixaSeraph
Summary: Sometimes, just sometimes, Nero wished that his life could just be simple. That the ever-present wish of knowing where he came from didn’t somehow bite him in the ass.Kyrie had told him that he always knew which path was right, and which path was wrong.But sometimes, it wasn’t about the path anymore. It was about the thoughts and feelings he had that he didn’t want to unload, because he thinks that no one deserved to really get the brunt of his weird-and-getting-weirder problems.Who was going to best understand the absolute frustration he has warring inside him, about how he wanted family, how he cared for family, but so far everything about his family has been traumatic?This was no burden for any human to shoulder.But maybe on the one family reunion that wasn’t traumatic, a devil could lend him an ear and shoulder instead.And a late wish coming true was still a wish come true.For DMC Week 2020, Day 3: Fight | Reunion | Loss
Relationships: Kyrie/Nero (Devil May Cry), Nero & Sparda (Devil May Cry)
Series: DMC Community Projects [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1953397
Comments: 20
Kudos: 97





	What is a God, to a Father?

**Author's Note:**

> \- Sometimes, you just want something so bad… that you just write it, and don’t bother asking yourself too deeply on how this could even happen.  
> \- In other words: I don’t 100% have good logic thought up here, so I don’t have answers to the “How and Why”. I only present you with angst and fluff.  
> \- Took liberty on deciding for myself what the orphans’ ages were.

So the day starts like this, okay?

It’s a lovely weekend morning, where there’s a light fog that hasn’t yet been chased away by the newly risen sun. The garage was currently more empty, as the RV was at Nico’s apartment. (Some nights, she stayed the night with Nero and Kyrie and the kids, so Nero always kept that side of the garage emptied for the vehicle.)

Nero was an early riser, much to the surprise of anyone’s first impressions of him. But he had grown up with Kyrie’s brother, Credo, who had been a harsh drill sergeant at times, but Nero would say that Credo had taught him well. 

His fighting skills alone was not the sole merit that allowed him among the ranks of the Holy Knights. If anything, Nero was still diligent, even if he were a bit of a wild child and an impudent teen. But now, even into adulthood, he kept well with being an early riser. 

He often had a morning routine of practice. Not every day was vigorous, but he would never allow himself to get rusty, either. 

Not that the current events could allow for him to get rusty, with the barrier between worlds having been ripped open by a blood-sucking tree. While Nero can’t say he 100% understood how the barrier between worlds worked, the simplified version was that the barrier is not static, and in this particular case, needed some time to “heal.”

The 900 other intricacies to what makes a gate, a seal, or whatever it is that allowed or did not allow for demons and devils to come though, were a bit much for him. Engineering was a lot simpler than the occult. 

All he cared about at the moment was to beat up any demons and devils that tried to take advantage of this weakness in the barrier, while pointely trying not to stew about the fact that Dante and Vergil were still not back from Hell yet. 

And yes, Dante better damn well drag Vergil back with him. At this point, Nero’s gotten enough bits and pieces from Trish and Lady to have realized that the deeply rooted sibling spat was more than just the poetic “disagreement over the reason of their existence,” as V (Vergil?) had put it. 

In fact, half of that doesn’t make sense at all. Sure, Nero might give Vergil (or was it V?) some benefit of the doubt, because Nero wasn’t the one who was having this sibling squabble. 

But Nero would at least say he knew Dante. Or, he should say, he knew Dante to be pretty damn _stupid_ about the reasons behind his motivations. 

So, Vergil, being Dante’s twin, is very likely equally as stupid. 

(But Nero couldn’t call them 100% stupid all the way through. Then, that would imply he came from a side of that stupid, and that wasn’t a very flattering thought.)

 _“Reason of their existence” my ass._ Nero thought. _You’re family. The reason for your existence is to be there for each other._

And that was a whole different can of worms. Worms he would dig out and fish with one by one, later, with the right hook, line, and sinker, to get his Dumb Uncle (apparently) and Dead Beat Dad (unfortuantely) to tell him every bit of information they owed to him.

Besides that, he couldn’t keep thinking so poorly of them forever. Nero still cared about and respected Dante for what little the Legendary Devil Hunter had provided for him. First and foremost, he gave him hope in his greatest time of need, even if he did so in the manner of an absolute ass. 

And Vergil… well, Nero had one very good reason to hold one shred of understanding for his father, and that was the echoing of V’s words to him: _I wanted to be protected and loved._

Hell, that’s what Nero wanted, too, wasn’t it? All his life. And he will admit, he had gotten it, for however long he was allowed to have it, even amidst all the bad things. 

So for all the asinine ways of Vergil, and all the problems he had, Nero gets it. 

Vergil was probably going to require tough work to iron out, but Nero will not deny his father the warmth of family. 

That was Nero’s plan. 

If only he could really get started on it. Sadly, that wasn’t possible until the two idiot Sons of Sparda came home. 

And while he sorted out all of those thoughts again, performing maintenance on the Red Queen while listening to some soft morning tune over the radio, he was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts by a tingling up his spine, followed by the humming of something in his blood, under his skin. 

In the past, he had relied much on his arm to recognize if demons were nearby. 

Since awakening his inner devil, he had since learnt that his Devil Bringer, in the state that it had been, was but a crutch and a stepping stone. There was more to his senses than the glow of blue light, and the tingling in his arm. 

He quickly snapped Red Queen’s parts back together, grabbed Blue Rose from the workbench, and stood up to stride warily towards the garage door, which was still closed. 

But whatever he was feeling, was buzzing in the air, and very close. 

The atmosphere was different, even, reminding him of the day when the Order of the Sword had opened Hell Gates everywhere. And even of the atmosphere of Redgrave when the Qliphoth ran rampant. 

His heart pounded, and his emotional state felt elevated. 

Maybe Dante and Vergil were coming back?

...Or maybe, something else wanted to come and try to take a bite out of him. 

If it’s the later, then garage door be damned, he was going to remove it from his property and far from his family as fast as possible before pummeling it--

The air rippled, and Nero immediately revved Red Queen, holding the urge to swing out before taking stock of what was going to come through. 

And something came through from another plane of existence, all right. 

More like, toppled through. 

So, the day was a foggy, idyllic Fortunan morning, where Nero could already smell the very faint scent of whatever Kyrie was starting to cook for breakfast, and could hear the faint sounds of what must be Julio climbing out of his bed before the other two kids, getting ready to trudge down the staircase to ask Kyrie what was for breakfast and where Nero was and if Nero might take them out today or whatever it was the kids might want (that he would provide to the best of his abilities…)

And a stranger fell from thin air and hit the concrete ground of his garage, face down. 

His blood sang: _devil, strong but weakened, familiar yet a stranger…_

Sword over his shoulders, Nero took another wary step forward and knelt down just enough to try and examine this stranger, who was covered in grime and blood. The dark and tattered overcoat was too faded for him to tell the colour, though judging from its seams and pattern, it might have once been glorious. The man (for Nero felt certain this was a man) seemed to be missing gloves, for surely he would have worn gloves with that coat, right?

His gloveless hands held a thin shard of metal that hummed with a familiar power. 

Nero reached out towards it, but paused. Gliding both his hand and attention away from the shard of metal that called to him, he gripped the man’s shoulder and tried to shake him a little. There was no response, but when Nero leaned down to try and get a better look at what he could see of the man’s face, (and he was beginning to wonder why this devil took such a human visage,) his heart damn near leapt into his throat. 

What was he seeing?

A face that was unfamiliar, yet familiar. Features that reminded him of Dante, or, no, was it Vergil? At first, he almost thought he was seeing his own reflection. But, no, this man did not bear all the features that Nero was familiar with from the mirror. 

But he was beginning to register that this devil’s hair, under the blood and grime, was white. 

_Pure white_. 

And suddenly, he recognized the power emanating from the shard of metal. 

The Yamato. 

Nero took back his hand in shock, as if continuing touching the man would burn him. The familiar power called to him. The blood called to him. 

And he was scared of what this meant. Did the Yamato break again? Or was this a piece of the Yamato that was never reclaimed?

_What did this mean? What happened? What was happening?_

And he could hear, now, from down the hall that led towards the garage, that someone was coming towards them. Probably Kyrie, to check on him and tell him that breakfast would be ready soon. 

Compared to the last time a strange devil showed up at his doorstep, this might be a far cry better. 

Kyrie opened the door: “Nero, breakfast is going to be ready. Nero?”

He didn’t want to take his eyes off this stranger, for fear that if he did, something bad might happen. With his back turned to Kyrie, he did slowly move his sword from his shoulders, to set down gently on the ground. The devil on the floor did not stir, and Nero was stuck between the decision to help him or to restrain him, before he woke. 

“Hey, uh… I think we have an extra guest today…”

And though they were both spooked by the last time a stranger showed up, Kyrie was still ever as kind, and she remained calm as she watched Nero manifest his clawed wings to both turn and scoop up the stranger and to restrain him in his grasp. He also carefully pried the Yamato shard out of the devil’s hand. 

“Are they hurt? Should I get the first aid kit?” Kyrie started tentatively as Nero turned towards the door, and it gave her an opportunity to glance over their guest. 

“I don’t know yet. But this…” He held up the Yamato shard in his normal physical left hand, “I want this stowed away for now. Can you open Red Queen’s case for me? That should be a good place for now.”

* * *

The stranger was laid out on the couch of the living room, after Kyrie had found some old sheets to spread out onto the furniture. It was no easy feat, because this devil was easily taller than Nero, and he almost wondered if maybe this man was taller than Dante or Vergil. Then again, it’s not like he’s ever tried to carry either of those two around, so he didn’t know how to compare. (Was V the same height as Vergil?)

By then, Julio had come down the stairs already, and at first, the sleepy seven-year-old child walked through the living room, yawned as he glanced at the guest upon the couch, and took it to be just like any other occurrence of his foster family helping a stranger in need: “Nero? Is everything okay?”

Having only just set the devil down and was still wondering if he needed to restrain him, Nero could only say: “Uh, yeah. Yeah, just uh… he passed out in front of the house. He’ll be fine. You can go get your breakfast, Julio.”

“Okay!” Smiling, the child went towards the kitchen, but not without glancing back curiously at the stranger one more time. 

Nero glanced down, fretting a little. Now that Julio was up, Carlo and Kyle won’t be far behind. And he still wasn’t sure what’s up with his impromptu guest right now. 

The obvious marks of relation also concerned him. He didn’t know what this meant. There was too much he still didn’t know about his family, for him to be making guesses. 

So, he took a deep breath, and decided he needed to only focus on the facts. 

One, there is a devil on his couch. Unconscious or not, he shouldn’t take his eyes off him, in case something bad happened. For now, he dashed the thought of restraining him, because it would look odd to the kids. He hoped he wouldn’t regret this decision. 

Two, this devil felt weakened. Though that doesn’t necessarily mean he could let his guard down, the question of why he was weakened and what did it to him could be important. If he was escaping, then his pursuer, which would be something stronger, could be led here.

Three, the Yamato shard. Hidden away, though not in any manner that was completely shielded from being sought out, anything to do with the Yamato was Nero’s business. 

He still, on some parts, considered that sword his, even though by rights it belonged to Vergil. (Though, by rights, Nero would technically be an inheritor of the blade, wouldn’t he?)

And suddenly, he wished that Dante, and even Vergil, were here. To help him figure this out. He didn’t want to leave the living room, for fear of what this devil might do. But he also couldn’t just sit here and play warden for however long the devil remained unconscious, waiting for answers that would not come. 

“Nero?”

Kyrie’s voice sounded from the living room door frame. Nero glanced back momentarily to say: “Hey Kyrie.” Before turning back to look at their unconscious guest. 

“You’ve been watching him like a hawk. Is everything okay?” She came up behind him, and at first, Nero wanted to warn her to stay a few paces away. But he also didn’t want to overly spook her. 

“I don’t know, Kyrie. He…” He motioned at the devil. He had explained to her the brief incident of their guest’s arrival as they were stowing away the Yamato shard. “The longer I wait for him to wake, the longer I go not knowing what to do next.”

And yet, despite all this anxiety, Kyrie always seemed to know what to do. “If you wish to keep vigil, that’s fine. But I’m sure he might wish to wake to some water, and maybe a bit of food, if he could stomach it. I’ll bring something to set to the side. Biscuits, maybe? That should be relatively light.”

Honestly, Nero didn’t think devils would eat biscuits, but he just nodded. Kyrie gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. “Let me quickly go upstairs first and let Carlo and Kyle know that we have a guest and to not gawk when they come through.”

She always thought of everything. 

“Yeah, please. Thanks.”

But, not long after she went up the stairs, did Nero notice that the next breath the devil took was different. A little deeper, more awake. 

Immediately, Nero felt on edge, and manifested his clawed wings in case there was any sign of aggression. But the devil came to everything slowly, with a faint groan, even. His attention, unsurprisingly, landed on Nero first. 

And Nero didn’t know how he ought to feel about the confusion that seemed to flit across the devil’s expression. So he could only furrow his brow and ask: “Hey. Morning. You uh, awake?”

Internally, Nero was freaking out a little. The eyes that focused on him, and then darted away to show how the devil was processing his own thoughts for an answer, were a very familiar shade of blue. 

“I am awake, I do hope.” The voice that sounded was dry, and it was hard to really tell what his voice ought to sound like. As he tried to sit up on the couch, Nero suddenly wished he already had the water that Kyrie had mentioned. Though his wariness did not fade, his instinct to help was overriding some of his outwards wariness, and his wings dissolved as he asked with concern:

“Wait, you sure you’re--”

“Oh!” Kyrie’s voice sounded from the staircase she was coming down from. “Hold on, I’ll be back with something to drink.”

Nero didn’t know what else to say as Kyrie rushed down the stairs. As she passed them, he kept his eyes on the devil, who only glanced briefly at her before putting his gaze back on him. 

“You are…?” The devil asked, somewhat softly. 

Nero’s heart was pounding for some reason, when he answered: “Nero. You got a name?”

He wasn’t sure if the expression in his gaze was relief or disappointment. Could it have been a mixture of both? “...Spencer.”

“Spencer?” Nero repeated, somehow finding this _wrong_. “That’s a very human name.” He blurted out without thinking. Damn, what was weird about that? Dante was Dante and Vergil was Vergil. But then again, back then Nero couldn’t have cared less for a good while if Dante’s name was something human or not. 

Perspectives change, after you realize you were part-devil yourself, and somehow the identity of “devil” and “how much devil” mattered. 

And this man felt completely like a devil, for certain. 

The way this devil looked up at him with amusement made Nero feel more embarrassed than uncomfortable. He almost looked _sad_. “I recognize this place. This location. A gate is supposed to be here, but I no longer feel that anchor point, so the fabric of the barrier between the two worlds has shifted somewhat. Fortuna… is not a good place to speak a devil’s name.”

Nero couldn’t help himself for letting out a huff. From the kitchen, he could hear Kyrie reassuring Julio that everything was fine, and that he should finish up his breakfast while she got something together for their “guest.”

“Alright, no need to really beat around the bush. If you’re worried about the Order, they’re toast. You know a bit about Fortuna. We both know you’re not human. But, let’s put things this way:” He got a bit closer, just to ensure that his voice was low enough to not be overheard but his point still got across: “You want to keep the human facade? I’m fine with that. Completely and totally. And I encourage it, because I’ve got people under this roof that could do without the surprise. If you have anything _demonic_ to put on the table, you let me know and we take care of business _outside_ of my house, and preferably outside of this city. Deal?”

The nagging feeling of familiarity was still creeping under his skin, and it made Nero give Spencer a benefit of doubt. (He was always careful to remind himself that Trish was not a benchmark for how friendly the average devil was, but a part of him couldn’t help but believe there were more like her out there.)

The _stare_ that Spencer gave him was somewhat blank, and it made Nero feel even _more_ awkward. 

But then, he was mentally knocked off his feet by the next words Spencer whispered: “And you are something a lot more than devil, aren’t you?”

What the hell did he mean by “a lot more than devil”?

If anything, shouldn’t it be “a lot less than devil”? 

But before he could ask about it, Kyrie swept into the room with a glass of water and a plate of buttered pancakes. (Nero supposed biscuits somehow ended up being off the menu.) 

“Oh, good, you’re well enough to sit. Are you feeling okay? Here.” Kyrie smiled and handed Spencer a glass of water. He didn’t seem concerned at her presence at all, and the grateful expression might actually be genuine. 

“I will recover.” He said softly. 

And that was it. Nothing else. The devil who said his name was Spencer drank the water slowly, and then gingerly accepted the plate of food. 

Kyrie continued her warm hospitality: “You are welcome to also borrow our shower and get cleaned up. I’m sure I can find something that you could wear for a while.”

Seemingly dazed, Spencer simply nodded. “That could be agreeable.” And then, to Nero’s surprise, he added: “Thank you.”

If he were holding his breath, Nero had let it go. 

There’s a weird devil in his house that would call Nero “more than devil” and say “thank you” to a human offering him hospitality. 

Why couldn’t Dante and Vergil be as behaved as this devil?

* * *

It was hard to keep the children from getting curious about their guest. After everyone had their breakfast, while Spencer was ushered to the bathroom, the kids crowded around Nero as he cleaned up the kitchen and dining table after breakfast. 

“Who’s the Mister that was in the living room?” Kyle asked. 

“Someone who could use a warm meal and a good shower.” Nero somewhat deadpanned. There will come a day where he wouldn’t be able to keep explanations simple anymore. “Found him collapsed on the ground, so we brought him inside.”

“Will he be staying?” Carlo asked. 

“For long? Probably not.” And there were a lot of reasons why.

And it was Julio who brought up: “Where do you think he’s from? He was really dirty and beat up.”

Nero tried to shrug. “He probably had his difficulties.” Hell was probably not a kind place. “But it’s not nice to be too nosy, so I don’t think we’ll find out.” 

From there, he finished up the cleanup and tried to corral the kids back upstairs, “Just for the moment, so we don’t overwhelm the guest, alright?” But it appeared that Spencer had just finished showering, and was standing in front of the calendar that was kept in the living room with his hands clasped behind his back. Kyrie had found the best-fitting grey pullover and faded-olive sweatpants that she could find for the tall man. 

Nero did his best to not do a double take at the sight of the tall devil in front of the calendar. Now that he’s gotten cleaned up, the way that had combed his hair back made Nero immediately think of Vergil.

The kids were, of course, observing childish politeness when they curiously greeted Spencer with a chorus of “Hello Sir!” and “Hello Mister!”

Spencer glanced over, that dazed look still in his eyes, as he politely nodded: “Good morning, little ones.”

Carlo giggled. “We’re not little! You’re just super tall!” Kid had picked up on some of the humor that Nero and Nico threw around the house, and was beginning to develop some smart responses. 

Strangely, a smile was curling on the corner of Spencer’s lips. 

And then Kyle said: “Wow! You might be taller than Uncle Dante!”

First of all, Nero was pretty sure that even if there were a height difference, Spencer couldn’t be that much taller, or even at all. Second, he immediately noticed that Spencer blinked in surprise, and then blinked twice again in a fashion that denoted some form of distress. “Is that so…” He almost whispered. 

Nero’s heart sunk, as a form of possibility started to take shape in his mind.

“Hey.” He said to get Spencer’s attention. “Morning air is pretty nice around here. Want to chat out back? Patio isn’t much but there’s a place to sit and everything. Coffee? Tea? Uh…” He thought about offering beer. The few times Dante ever visited, the request was always beer, but was it really a good time to be thinking about Dante right now?

The look in the devil’s eyes was one of a thousand questions that he wanted answered, as he responded softly: “Tea would be ideal, please.”

* * *

Kyrie made the tea. Nero brought it out. 

Spencer sat there with a cup in his hand but he seemed too lost in thought to even try it. 

Nero sat down in the other chair with trepidation, and Spencer asked: “That calendar. It is recent, correct?”

“Yeah, it is.” 

Spencer stared down at his cup, and was silent for a long while. Not really sure about what to do, Nero took a sip of his own tea. He preferred coffee, if he were to be honest, but he never left his tea untouched when Kyrie made it. 

“You okay?” He finally asked his guest. 

“That is a difficult question to answer.”

Nero now realized that, for a devil, Spencer was strangely soft spoken. But he supposed, at the moment, this devil looked like he was more broken than anything, so perhaps that could factor in. 

“I wasn’t supposed to have been gone for so long.” Spencer continued. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have left at all. My folly, realized too late. Three to almost four decades is a blink of an eye to a devil, but that amount of time is almost half the lifespan of a human being.”

Nero couldn’t help it anymore. He blurted out: “We’re related, aren’t we?”

Spencer finally looked up from his untouched tea. “So you do feel it.”

“Yeah, it’s settling down a little now but it’s this buzzing under my skin and in my blood. And I used to not know what it meant, but I’ve felt it just enough times now…” He had to take a moment, as memories of when he first met Dante and Vergil each surfaced. They were stressful times, but right now? He could still identify it. It was the same feeling. 

But he couldn’t bring himself to ask. 

Spencer just hummed and nodded. And it left them in an awkward silence. 

Nero considered his options. Everything was stacking up to a very shocking conclusion, and finally, he blurted out: “Are you Sparda?”

Again, time ticked by. And finally, the devil took a drink of his tea. Not long after, he had an empty teacup to set down on the patio table, and finally said: “The name ‘Sparda’ began to hold different labels, as time went on. I had hoped that, to my family, I would not be ‘Sparda.’ That I would not be ‘The Legendary Dark Knight.’ I was a fool to think that I could shed it. A fool to think that my past would not affect my present. But, here I am. Tell me, do you know of a city by the name of Redgrave? If some things haven’t changed, then I believe the country was referred to as England.”

Oh boy. “Uh. Yeah. It, uh… it’s being rebuilt right now, though.” 

There was a measure of alarm in Spencer’s… Sparda’s eyes. Nero knew he couldn’t beat around the bush about this. He knew exactly why Sparda was asking. 

If Nero had been gone for decades and came back to find how much time had passed, the first thing he’d ask about would be his family. Of Kyrie. 

Dante had never spoken about his past before. But the few precious facts that Nero had been privy to connected enough dots: Dante was half-devil, half-human. Sparda accounted for the devil’s blood, but the other half?

Dante’s, and Vergil’s mother, was human.

And it didn’t take much for Nero to find out that their mother, (his grandmother,) was dead. 

“I’m sorry.” Nero started. “But I’ve been told that… your wife passed away a long while ago.”

Everything about Sparda was hardly devil right now. He clasped his hands and leaned forward to gaze down with a measure of pain, before closing his eyes, exhaling, and finally stating: “I know that this is not the only news I must come to learn. Too much time has passed. There is too much I must know, before I act on the instinct to tear down whatever took her from me. Oh, I have an inkling, now, of what had happened. I had fallen into a well-laid trap, by an enemy who wanted my suffering. But for now, I must move forward, as humans do. I must learn, before I act. So, please… Nero, was it?”

He felt startled to hear his name, spoken by Sparda. “Y-yeah.”

“Tell me of your story, child.”

Nero stared. 

He stared and he stared at Sparda, The Legendary Dark Knight. 

_The Saviour_. 

But he didn’t want to be those, did he?

Yet, Nero started with: “Did you know that the Order of the Sword worshipped you as a god?”

The _huff_ that came from Sparda was surprising. “Ah, yes. An odd development. Somewhat recent, by my standards. By the time I had found out, I had decided it was better I never showed up back here again, so long as the gate remained secured, and left them to their own devices.”

“I grew up here.” Nero whispered, and found his mouth dry. He finally took another drink of his tea, now lukewarm. By the time he was done, Sparda was gazing at him, expression neutral, but waiting. 

“I grew up here, but… I wasn’t able to put much faith into The Saviour.” Nero felt like he wanted to laugh. He tried to suppress it. “I grew up in the orphanage here, you see. There was a time in my life, I had prayed for my family to show up. To come take me home. I was different. I wasn’t exactly wanted, even in the orphanage. The kids there were often children who had lost their parents, but I was abandoned there. No parent to trace back to.”

Why was he talking about this? 

What brought this on? 

He glanced over and saw the deep measure of concern in Sparda’s eyes. And suddenly, all of Nero’s anger, his frustration, and his sadness broke the floodgates. 

He hadn’t wanted to burden anyone else with these thoughts or these feelings. 

But now, it was like he was in the face of God, wasn’t he?

“Eventually, I gave up, of course. Take my losses, and move on. I got lucky. Kyrie’s family took me in. But that luck didn’t last. When I was twelve, there was an attack. Kyrie’s parents died. And I…” He looked down at his right arm. 

It was so normal, now. So human. But could he still…

It was brief. But he managed, and his arm changed completely, to the familiar patterned blue. Now that he had somehow awakened a full trigger, he was finally able to spend his days looking almost completely normal. But there was a large part of him now that felt like his “second skin” was just as comfortable as his human one. 

“This is…” Sparda’s eyes widened, and Nero dissolved the trigger. 

“At the time, I didn’t know what had happened to me. My arm remained like that for the better part of the next ten years, and I had no one to answer my questions. We scraped on pass, and I hid my arm to the best of my abilities. It sucked, to have this secret, but I thought everything was going to slowly get better when I joined the Holy Knights.”

He took a deep breath. Did he really want to continue rambling like this?

But then, Sparda asked: “You said that the Order was no more.”

“Yeah. Yeah, they’re gone, now. About five to six years ago. I’d been a knight for barely a few years, and the Order got in over their heads and wanted… well I guess they wanted your power, or whatever bits of it they could get their hands on. I knew jack shit about what was going on at the time...”

He was still pretty damn mad about it, too, for several reasons. 

And he told Sparda. 

Told him about how the Order had lured Dante in, only to have found him harder to capture than they had thought, and proceeded to use Nero as a backup plan instead. When it became clear that Sparda was respectfully going to let Nero finish his story, before interrupting with any of his reactions to hearing about his younger son, Nero pretty much broke down on how Dante proceeded to spend the next five to six years telling him _nothing._

“I thought, at first, he didn’t want to say anything because Kyrie and I had just lost Credo. And then, later, when he continued to not say anything, I thought maybe it was because the time was past. I desperately wanted to hear _something_ from him, _anything._ Because, come on! I wasn’t stupid! We had to be related in some way, right? I thought, I thought that…” 

He brought his hands up to his face, and tried to calm down for a moment. “But he didn’t. It wasn’t that he wasn’t there for me in some way afterwards, though. Gave me a place in the business, after all. He runs a devil hunting agency.” He added, realizing Sparda probably knew nothing of what Dante had been up to. “So I just tried to stay content with that. Life was getting better, in the five to six years since. Fortuna is rebuilding, just slowly is all. It’s a bit hard since the foundation of our entire way of life got upended by the stupid Order, but Kyrie and I are making ends meet just well enough to keep these kids off the streets.”

For a moment, he felt calm again, thinking about the days they’ve spent together. In terms of the status quo for him and Kyrie, things have gone back on track, and he’s even gotten a bit more work nowadays. It didn’t come without a price, of course, but that price was beyond his control.

And Sparda picked up on the lingering “however” in the air. “Something happened.”

“Oh, something happened, alright.” Nero felt that flare of anger again, and let out a breath through his teeth. “I guess the best way to put it is that Vergil happened.”

Sparda narrowed his eyes, questions no doubt surfacing in his mind. But at this point, Nero thought that it might be better to not get into the details of that. Because, really? Whatever the fuck happened at the root of the Qliphoth had too many details that only Dante and Vergil knew, but Nero didn’t know. “They tried to kill each other. I’ve never heard of anything more stupid than that. This is where I’d tell you to go ask them about it, but that isn’t going to fly, either. Because those two--” Nero nearly let go of his restraint and called them bastards, which was a run-of-the-mill curse at them, but thought better of it to correct himself:

“Those two idiots had to go jump down into hell to cut down the rest of the Qliphoth and seal the portal from the other side. When I said we had to do something about the tree taking over, I didn’t mean… I didn’t want…”

He knew, all along, in the past few months since the whole incident, that what truly hurt the most was that he felt like he had been left behind. Left alone. 

And all the grievances that went through his mind in the past few months, from his thoughts on how dumb Vergil’s and Dante’s “disagreement on the reason of their existence” was, down to how he felt that maybe he could have been able to help earlier, if Dante had just _said_ something. That maybe, they could have realized earlier what was happening, and came about everything from a better angle. 

As he buried his face into his hands, a warm hand settled upon his shoulder. “I do, indeed, have a number of questions about this. But it sounds to me that you stopped them from committing a grave mistake, but you are still upset with them. And I might say that you would have a right to be upset.”

“I understood why. I know why… Dante said he trusted me to keep an eye on things over here. But I…”

“You didn’t want him to leave.”

“I didn’t want _them_ to leave. Even though I wasn’t very impressed with my brief interaction with Vergil. It just feels so shitty, to know that I have family, only for them to leave so soon.”

Though he withdrew his hand, there was a heavy weight in Sparda’s words: “It would seem that my leaving did more harm than good, also.”

A shaky breath later, Nero looked up from his hands at Sparda. “This is weird, you know. It’s very weird to hear that from you. I feel like I’m at a confessional. And I don’t even know how those are usually supposed to go. Didn’t pay attention to any of the church drivel. Am I allowed to even say that in front of you?” Finding a small measure of amusement in this, Nero finally cracked a joke. 

Sparda seemed to think about it for a moment, and then he said slowly: “Had it ever crossed anyone’s minds, here in Fortuna, that they were worshipping a devil? That the truth of what they created was an organized cult?” 

“Riggggght. Let’s just say, if anyone thought that, they knew better to keep their mouth shut about it.”

The silence that stretched out this time wasn’t nearly as awkward, as Sparda reached over for more tea, but Nero beat him to it and poured out a cup for him. 

Finally, after another round of tea for Sparda but no more for Nero, Sparda said: “You said that you had found the Yamato, and repaired her. But I do not feel her presence with you. I had thought, when I found a piece of her blade…”

This time, it was Nero’s turn to listen, as Sparda glanced down at his tea in melancholy. 

“I had thought the worst had happened. Somewhere along the lines, many things, possibly worse than death, had happened for the Yamato to have been shattered. But through that shard, I had felt something. Two things, actually. The shard called to the whole. I could feel the rest of the blade within the Underworld. I had thought, at first, that my priority would be to reclaim the Yamato, as leaving it down in Hell would bode ill. But the thought that she had been separated from Vergil meant something a thousand times worse to me, than what another devil could do with a blade that would not recognize them as her master.”

Nero could see it now, the panic that might have gone through Sparda. And suddenly, he was reminded: this was the one the Order of the Sword had referred to as “The Saviour who awoke to justice.” But now, Nero wondered if in the end, it was more that Sparda had come to love and care for people. 

He didn’t think devils normally had anything that resembled family. Heck, with the way Dante was, and from what little Nero knew of Vergil, he thought that maybe devils just couldn’t love, and even with the half-human part, it was still a stilted thing. 

But here was Sparda, The Saviour, describing to him the horror felt as a _father_ , that one of his children had been met with misfortune. 

“But the shard also called to something else. It burned so brightly, with a desire that probably echoed the fervent wishes of Yamato's last wielder before she shattered: a very devilish desire for more power, but also a very human desire for safety and protection. It gravitated towards something. Someone. Who was not in the Underworld, but instead, in the human realm.”

At that, Nero felt something wrench in his gut. 

Sparda, with the Yamato shard, had chosen to follow the second sign in order to find Vergil. 

What he found, instead, was Nero. 

Automatically, Nero apologized: “I’m sorry.”

This snapped Sparda out of his forlorn tale. “What are you apologizing for, child?” He asked gently. 

“For not being the person you were looking for.”

And then, Sparda laughed. 

It was a soft, and sad chuckle. And he said, more to himself than anyone else: “Ah. What an old fool I was. I wasn’t there for my wife, or my sons. And in being gone, I was not there for you, either. It is I, who should be apologizing to you. I dare say that the Yamato, broken as she was, ended up being found by the Order because she had come here for you, who would rightfully be her next master.”

_I had the feeling, the first time I saw you, but I just wasn't sure. And then I saw how the Yamato reacted...and I was certain._

Dante’s words echoed. 

Nero couldn’t help but sigh, and also mumbled unto himself: “So why does everyone else get to see the signs, but I’m the last one to get to know?”

“Pardon?” 

He didn’t mean to come off exasperated. “It’s just… there’s still too much I don’t know. An entire family history got opened up for me, and I have nowhere to dig deeper until those two assholes come back from Hell. Dante didn’t even tell me he was my damn uncle up until Vergil showed up in front of him. But he had known, apparently, from the moment he met me.” 

There was a lot of omission to how that admission went down, but Nero finally shook his head. “But I guess… hey, you’re back now, too. Wow.” He then thought about it, and groaned: “Damn, what am I going to tell Kyrie? The whole ‘I’m related to Sparda’ thing was weird enough already, even if the Order is gone now. _Shit._ What am I going to tell _Nico_?? She’s going to go hog wild over you being alive and here!” And there was still Trish, and Lady, too! _Double fuck_. Trish! Trish had said she was made in Grandmother Eva’s image! _Damn it--_

While Nero’s brain started to do mental gymnastics over all of this, Sparda grounded his senses with a very simple and casual question: “Kyrie is the young lady that served me breakfast? Your… wife?”

Nero’s sure that he turned several shades of red. “No! I mean… Not yet!” Nico had ribbed him several times about it already, and believe him, he was thinking about it. The problem was just that… no time felt right. Especially not after the most recent fiasco. 

Sparda then turned thoughtful. “The Yamato shard…”

“Safe. I wasn’t sure if the entire situation could be trusted yet, so I hid it away. But I can return it…”

“I may be able to use the shard to find a way to expedite Vergil and Dante’s way out of Hell.” Sparda nodded. 

Nero stared. 

Is this what it was like, to have The Saviour on your side?

No. He dashed the thought. 

This was what it was like to have family at your back. Family that wasn’t afraid to be direct with helping you. 

Sparda was no god. And at this very moment, he was hardly a devil. He was an estranged grandfather to Nero, who had been searching for his family the moment he was able to. 

“You can do that?” He asked dumbly. 

Nodding, Sparda continued: “I may be able to figure something out if we can make it to Redgrave, where I had first placed the major seal between the worlds. Seeing as the Qliphoth had broken through recently, I would assume that the seal has been dismantled, but I had chosen that location first for a reason.”

Somewhat flabbergasted, and remembering that Sparda felt very weakened at the moment, Nero began to show concern for his newfound family member: “Will you be alright, doing this so soon? It’s not going to…”

“I should be fine, if perhaps what they will need is a beacon, at the right place. If a path is lit, where they will not need to forcefully tear the fabric between the two worlds, then perhaps they can come back safely and swiftly.”

Nero blinked. “I… Well, going to Redgrave is a trip we can make by wheels. I guess I could call Nico about it. Could leave tomorrow, in fact…”

“I would not object to that. But would it be possible, also, to take me to where my old house once was? I know it’s been decades, but…”

And it was Nero’s turn to put his hand on Sparda’s shoulder. “I understand. I know. I can ask Nico to take us by.”

Even a devil would mourn for their loved ones, wouldn’t they?

* * *

That night, Kyrie situated Sparda in the guest room. 

It was agreed that the children did not need to know who Sparda actually was, so he would be referred to as “Spencer” from henceforth. 

But once the kids turned in for the night, Nero had to make the phone call to Nico, first:

“Hey, Nico.”

“Yo, what’s up! Late night emergency?”

“For now, no. Hey, listen, I need to make a trip to Redgrave tomorrow.”

“Whaddaya mean you gotta make a trip to Redgrave tomorrow? You don’t kick enough demon ass outside of Redgrave since that day? Besides, they’re finally rebuilding and all. Not much to see there.”

“It’s not that. Look, I don’t want to go into this over the phone, but I got someone we need to take there. I’ll explain it to you tomorrow, after we leave the house.”

“The hell you going on about. Something hush hush that Kyrie and the kiddos aren’t allowed to hear about?”

“ _J_ _ust_ the kids, Nico. Look, you’ll get to meet the guy tomorrow and all will be explained, okay? Get some rest. Long trip ahead.”

“Yeah, yeah, slavedriver. This better be _good_. I could be working on--”

“I know, but trust me. You’re going to be glad I asked you. I need to go now. Still need to explain some of this to Kyrie before I just up and leave in the morning.”

“ _Whatever_ , loverboy. You go cozy up with your girl tonight and I’ll be the judge tomorrow if I’m going to charge you for gas or not. Night, bro. Be there good an’ early tomorrow.”

* * *

“Nero.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re telling me, right now, Sparda is in our guest room?”

At this point, Nero couldn’t help but chuckle. “Hard to believe, isn’t it?”

Though it was dim, ever since Nero developed his full trigger, he discovered that he could see even _better_ in the darkness now. Kyrie had told him recently that his eyes were a little brighter at night now, and at first, he was worried that she found it scary. 

But, just like how accepting she had been of his Devil Bringer, she smiled and told him his eyes were pretty. 

And now, he saw in the dim light that she smiled again, and shook her head. “I’m surprised, but I don’t find it hard to believe anymore. After all, you’re here, in my life, with all the miracles that come with you…”

He couldn’t help but fall back into an old thought: “Not miraculous enough. Not enough to save your parents, or Credo…”

“Oh, Nero…” She placed her hand on his cheek, but there was no more she needed to say. He knew. She knew that he knew. Words that she had reassured him with before: that he was still too young, then. That there will always be a time where things will be outside of their control. That they simply needed to continue to live as fulfilling lives as possible, for their sakes. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“I’m…” He thought about it. After everything that had happened today, how did he feel?

“I feel… lighthearted, actually.” He then admitted: “I got a lot off my chest today. It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you about things, it’s just…”

“I understand.” She stroked his cheek. “I understand. It’s okay. Nero, you are unique, and I know that comes with its challenges and burdens, too. And I am happier for you, to be able to connect with your family.” 

Everything about Kyrie, he loved. And it was always her voice that guided him. She might say he knew the right path, but he believed she taught him how to choose the right path. 

And she embraced him, and lightly patted him on the shoulder before pulling away. “You and Nico will be going to Redgrave with your grandfather tomorrow, right?”

It was so weird to hear that, to be reminded that Sparda is his grandfather. “Yeah. He’s going to see about calling Vergil and Dante home, I guess. But also so he can see the state of the city. It’s odd to actually realize that it was a place he called home. It’s not just ‘the city that Dante’s shop is at.’ Or ‘the city that got wrecked by a demonic tower and then a demonic tree.’ That’s where Dante and Vergil grew up, when they actually had family. Redgrave is where my family’s from. Isn’t that something?” Nero started to ramble as they laid down in bed. 

As Kyrie also gently climbed into bed, she responded softly: “I do feel concerned for Sparda, though. I would be livid to lose so many years…” The rest, about family, went unsaid but not unheard. And, like the light she was in Nero’s life, she concluded: “But we will be here for him. For Dante, and your father, too, right?”

Reaching over to wrap his arm about her, so that they could snuggle closer, Nero hummed an affirmative, and fell into sleep with a lighter heart.

* * *

Come morning, Nero climbed out of bed just like every other morning, careful to not disturb Kyrie. 

Seeing Spencer awake and sitting in the living room made him do a double-take. For one thing, he was now decked out in what was clearly a refreshed version of the faded coat Nero had first found him in. Gloves, finery, and everything. And let’s not say anything about the monocle just yet...

“Mornin’.” He mustered, his brain suddenly awake. “You, uh, sleep well?”

Spencer had been leafing through one of the colouring books, of all things, that had been left in the living room. He must not have been up long, because a colouring book was by no means a lasting “reading” material. He tilted his head politely, and responded: “Admittingly, I need little sleep. But I caught what rest I could. I had considered showing a measure of appreciation, but in light of the circumstances, breakfast may have been the only proper gesture, and I had been told many times before that I ought not to touch the kitchen…”

With that kind of admission… “Well, it’s the thought that counts, right? Don’t worry about it. Kyrie is going to be up soon. The older kids have school. I usually get up early to run through some practice and do sword maintenance if needed.” 

At the mention of swords, Spencer seemed fittingly curious: “You have a blade of your own?”

Feeling sheepish, Nero scratched the back of his head. “It’s nothing fancy like a devil arm.”

“Ah, but even humans can understand the concept of a trusted weapon being a companion of your soul.”

Nero didn’t need any further elaboration to understand that. Truly, he was speaking with the Legendary Dark Knight, Sparda, after all. 

So, Nero grabbed the Red Queen from the garage. And while he was at it, he grabbed the Yamato shard, also, and returned it to Spencer. 

He was surprised that Spencer was very interested in the functions of the sword, and eventually, Nero even showed off some of his fancier moves involving the EX gauge. By the end of the short exposition, Kyrie called out back that breakfast was ready, and as the two of them made their way back inside, Spencer told him:

“Human ingenuity has always been a kind of power that even devils find hard to replicate. Very few devils agree with me that there is more to gain from learning from humans, instead of stealing power through blood. I think you wield the finer points of both parts of your heritage well, Nero.”

He was dumbfounded, and lightheaded from the praise. The rest of breakfast was a bright affair. The kids were all very curious about Spencer’s outfit, and Nero made a mental note that the first order of business was to get his grandfather to learn that modern day fashion has changed. 

Nero briefly explained to the kids that he’ll be away on a trip with Spencer, which was received by “come home soon” and “be safe, Nero!” The kids were used to his coming and going like this, even though he hated to make them wait. But he had once put thought into it, and truly, he had to put his unique skills and abilities where it was needed. 

And though he hated to admit it, fighting was deeply in his blood, and he was done denying that part of his heritage, so long as he could keep his family safe. 

Nico arrived before it was time for the older kids to go to school, and before leaving, Kyrie made sure to give Nero a chaste but meaningful kiss on the cheek, and to Spencer’s surprise, she gave him a hug, and whispered: “I pray… no, I hope that you will find what you need to fill what time you had lost with joy.”

Nero couldn’t be sure exactly how different things were in the time before he was born, but Spencer hadn’t seemed overly lost or overwhelmed by anything yet. The moment he climbed into the RV after Nero entered, however, was the start of a brief headache. 

“Hey Nero, so what’s all this-- Whoa! Who fell out of a time machine?” Nico almost dropped her cigarette, and Nero was already internally groaning. 

“Drive first, then we explain. I’m not going to chance anyone overhearing this while we air out your rancid cigarette smoke. Would it be too much to ask if you smoked a little less on this trip?”

“Yeah, if you wanna go find yourself a new driver and a set of wheels. My car, my rules. But I’ll roll down the windows for ya.”

He just groaned and moved on: “Nico, this is Spencer. Spencer, this is Nicoletta Goldstein. She’s my mechanic, and arms dealer. Literally.” Walking over to the workbench, he first grabbed the hookshot and base to his Devil Breakers, clasped it right above his right elbow, and swiftly equipped an Overture from his magazine that he made sure to grab on the way out. 

Spencer was clearly impressed by the technology, just like how he was impressed by the Red Queen. “Fascinating. I’m seeing that these are all for your right arm, however. Is it only compatible with that hand due to…?”

Nero shook his head, not wanting to talk about the circumstances right now. “It’s a long story. I think it’s better to tell this after we get everyone together and home.”

Nico took a drag of her cigarettes, and snuffed it out. “Well, colour me surprised. You’re usually very touchy about showing your _special abilities_. What are you not telling me?”

Suddenly realizing that he got too quick and comfortable with wanting to show all the things he could do, he spluttered: “You’ll get to know soon! Just get us out of Fortuna first, and at the first gas stop I’ll tell you, okay?”

Nico just rolled her eyes. “You’d better!” and stepped on the gas. Both men stumbled at the sudden acceleration, but quickly found their purchase, and each found their seats. 

And then, Nico hollered back: “By the time we get to the first stop, we might want to get Mister Timetraveler there some new clothes!”

Yeah, that was definitely something they needed to do. Even by the old 1980s standards, the Victorian look was way out of date. 

Spencer glanced down at his clothes. “Ah, of course. With how fashion changed almost every decade, it stands to reason that almost 36 years would account for many changes. Fret not, changes can be made easily, if you might point me in the right direction.”

And from the front, Nico cut in: “So you ARE a time traveller!”

“Stop saying that!” Nero shouted towards her. 

Nico just smirked back at him. “Well that’s my going theory until you tell me what’s up! But, real talk, somewhere in that pile of magazines in the RV might still have a fashion catalogue or two. Why don’t you get him acquainted with modern day stuff before we figure out what store we can afford to raid?”

A good suggestion, and turns out, they didn’t need to raid a store at all. Spencer flipped through a few pages of what Nero could find, and easily found a new comfort zone. 

Within moments, he used his devil powers to change what he was wearing, from head to toe. The monocle was replaced by a set of much better looking reading glasses that he undoubtedly did not need, and he went with a much simpler but still deep purple trench coat. But clearly, his sense of formality did not go away, as he chose a black button up shirt, grey slacks, and black dress shoes. 

Nico, of course, witnessed this magical change from her mirrors, but said nothing for once. 

“Will this be satisfactory?” Spencer asked after he was finished. 

“Huh… guess this whole family is partial to long coats.” Nero observed. 

He didn’t see it, but Nico gave him a _look_ through the mirrors. And the rest of the short trip before their gas stop outside of Fortuna was filled with Spencer’s surprising interest in guns. When he had brought up Luce and Ombra, however, Nero prevented himself from saying anything, and opted to show him Blue Rose instead. 

Clearly, none of this went unheard by Nico, because the first thing they did when they got to the gas station wasn’t to gas up the RV. 

She maneuvered them sharply into a parking spot, where both Nero and Spencer had to grab ahold of something to keep themselves from being flung into the RV walls, parked, and got up from the driver’s seat to demand:

“Alright, enough of the suspense.” She was staring wide-eyed at Spencer. “I happen to know a thing or two, and I’ve serviced Trish’s guns before.” She ignored Nero’s panicked expression regarding the topic of Trish, and barreled on: “Old models, but definitely custom made. Tried to ask her what gunsmith made those babies, and all she’d tell me was that Dante dug those out from some _collection_ of his and gave them to her. Now, I’ve heard the Legendary Devil Hunter doesn’t keep a very big collection around, so whatever he kept, had to have been something important to him. And those babies? Definitely got some years on them. You’re telling me you made them?”

Before Nero could cut in, he could see the amusement that was sparkling in his grandfather’s eyes, and the new fashion change took away all of the ridiculous out-of-style look to him, so that amusement was no longer shadowed by awkward impressions. Spencer leaned forward in curiosity, and answered: “I did, yes.”

Nico nodded, “Alright. Right so, I’m connecting some wild dots here, and I can’t believe what I think I’m seeing here, but you! You’re _The Legendary Dark Knight_ , are you?” 

Nero buried his face in his hands. Here we go…

Getting to their destination might be a little longer now, as upon getting confirmation, Nico squealed with ecstasy, and immediately jumped into a thousand word per second spiel on how she couldn’t believe how lucky she was. Not only did she get to meet with Dante, the Legendary Devil Hunter, who made a name for himself for decades using her Grandma Nell’s magnum opus at his side, but now she gets to meet the Legendary _Sparda_ himself?

And what’s more, Spencer’s clear interest in engineered marvels had her reeling with joy. Someone who could appreciate her art!

(To that, Nero had a lot to say: He might not match her genius, but he knew engineering well enough and appreciated her work, too! Plus, what was he in this hierarchy? Chopped liver?)

(And Nico simply said: “Chill, _bestie_. Don’t get me wrong, your uncle’s famous and your gramps is even famous-er. But You’ll always be my hunting bro, you get me?”)

And so, leaning back into the seat for a while as Nico bubbled over her precious blueprints of Ebony and Ivory left by Nell, Nero took a breath of relief and evaluated the situation before him. 

It felt like so long ago, back when he was still a kid who didn’t know what to think about The Saviour yet, that he had prayed and wished for his family. 

He had thought, after getting fostered, that the wish no longer mattered. 

But here, seeing his friend get along with his grandfather (he still wasn’t used to it, but he was elated!) and with the thought of how Dante and Vergil could be back soon…

Maybe, with the presence of Sparda, they could actually all be a family. 

It was sudden. It was alien. 

But it was family. 

And it was a wish that he was happy to have fulfilled. Even if it was strangely and ironically being fulfilled by Sparda himself. 

**Author's Note:**

> \- I know lore on Luce and Ombra are a little foggy, so I just took what I thought fit the best and went with my own headcanons.   
> \- Anticlimactic? It’s kinda how “prompt fills” go for me. As for if people want to see more of my interpretation of Sparda interacting with the family, well… someday, I might have the chance to write it. 


End file.
